


A Wake of Vultures; A Murder of Crows

by Yuri_the_Eighth_Demoness



Series: Storya sing Tatlo ka Dios (The Tale of Three Gods) [4]
Category: Bleach, GetBackers, Tokyo Babylon
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Fifteen the Lesser, M/M, Multi, Multi-fic Crossover, Other, multi-fandom crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-29 20:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21415849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuri_the_Eighth_Demoness/pseuds/Yuri_the_Eighth_Demoness
Summary: The Universe has its higher gods. It also has those below...This is the tale of a lesser deity's lovers, whom, after an accident in their home of Runia Babylonia, stray into present day Shinjuku, prompting the important mission for their return. That is, before all balance in the System spirals down into utter chaos, and destroys every Realm in Seishirou Sakurazukamori's domain...
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin/Kurosaki Ichigo, Aizen Sousuke/Kurosaki Ichigo, Amano Ginji/Midou Ban, Seishirou Sakurazuka/Ban Midou/Ginji Amano
Series: Storya sing Tatlo ka Dios (The Tale of Three Gods) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030211
Kudos: 4





	A Wake of Vultures; A Murder of Crows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got into writing this as a palate cleanser of some sort after getting toxic from making the SRs. It's a nice change, mixing up three of the Fandoms I used to be so heavily inclined to (maybe still am).  
I've actually decided to put it under another new series, for possibilities of introducing the other lesser gods that make up the Citadelian Empire.  
Should be cool right?  
**Caveat:** You might get confused as heck, so I highly encourage you read my [Storya Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030211) first before proceeding here. Thank you.

There was that sting, a sudden pain that rang through his temples, vibrating as it ran from one side of his head to the other, pulling a groan out of him, a flinch, then a hiss finally.

At first, he could not feel his fingers, only that subtle ache, up until he managed flexing those said digits weakly, then the feeling returned, and he found himself able to move again.

Yet slowly. As his consciousness resumed, eyes blinking, once to clear the haze, twice to break into waking at last. He fisted his hand fully now, taking a long, deep breath as if he'd just come to life from death.

Only then was he able to perceive his situation fully, the cold and tickle of the grass upon which he lay, the scent of the late afternoon, the dryness of his throat. The sounds resuming as he finally heard the voice calling his name. A distant echo before it became a clear bell.

"_Vaughn_!" Yes. _His name_. "Vaughn-chan!"

He had to focus on that, focus until he could make something out of that voice, his fellow-beloved's face swimming into clarity.

At first he thought it unreal that he had to reach a hand and touch that cheek, a trace of tear slipping over his skin from the other. _He_ looked so worried.

Don't be scared... 

"_G-Giran_?"

He found his own voice and he called the other by his name in return, though the effort only ended in a raspy croak until he was able to cough it out, rolling over one side in fear he'd thrown up, fisting onto the grass hard enough to uproot it, in order to keep his consciousness up.

He was beginning to heal at least, a good sign, the migraine dissipating as the power poured into his system to correct whatever needed the correction.

He briefly caught the faint traces of fire. A sudden flash of it invading his recollection. Wait. His mind registered one word: _disaster_, before that faded into memory too.

Just what had _happened_ to _him_? To _them_?

"Vaughn...I'm scared," as the other _deity_ choked upon his sob. He can be such a child, a simple crybaby, that the other had to do something about that almost always.

Was he not a _god_? How can _Giran_ be _this_ frightened of everything? He had him by his side too, didn't he?

But he should have understood what it was that inspired this notion from his counterpart. As he himself fell wide-eyed and gaping at the scenery before them once he _finally_ was able to take it all in.

Vehicles -the sound of many? Lights? Rising buildings and structures? An urban setting he's seen before...he just could not recall _where_, or perhaps had it been from their education of what it looked like below the Runia?

"What in Babylon-" Vaughn staggered to his feet, Giran letting him pull up from where he allowed him to lay his head on his lap, assisting even.

His reaction the first time was pretty much the same- "_Where_ are we!?"

* * *

There was this slow and agonizing sensation every time a blade was pulled from inside _him_, each sharp extraction dragging a gaping wound with it, vessels rupturing, veins and muscles sliced, breaking skin enough to leave its number of holes on his flesh at the exit, blood dripping in pools to stain the unblemished surface of the pristine floor.

_He_ screamed, and shuddered, strained muscles already torn and pulled, dangling in those restraints that by now have cut through as well, the chains rattling. Add this to the presence of welts, and slashes, of lashes from the earlier whipping. Also the number of bruises and broken bones from the equally strenuous beating, making breathing difficult, each inhale laborious, intense and hurting, as if _his_ very lungs were being squeezed against _his_ chest.

He normally did not feel these things. He was immune to his own weaponry, the blades an integral part of his being in fact, made by his own body, hidden in his own flesh.

His Master however made him take an elixir especially concocted by the _Apothecary_ of Citadelia the centre of the Cosmos, one that rendered him _mortal_ and powerless for the time being, and able to experience every acute sensation a hundredfold over.

A necessity for the _punishment_ that he is going through at the moment, his skin marked multiple times as he was pushed to the brink of suffering and enduring that, not allowed to fall unconscious but left with his injuries, almost to death...

Not that it mattered. The more he _bled_, the better.

"Again."

The Lesser God of this Realm, Seishirou Sakurazukamori's anger has not been sufficiently quenched. For that, he once more ordered the Sentinels of his Fortress, his _Executors of Punishment_, to repeat the last blows upon that body, making the regal General of his House crawl, yet, with his arms and legs chained still, was unable to move past the spot where he was earlier dropped onto, managing but a weak cry now as he collapsed, the fresh splash of blood painting over previous layers to smear and spread, just making a complete abstract of a mess on the marble.

It was already hell in comparison, but yes this was not _nearly_ sufficient. For a deity like his Master, the demand was all the more.

Seishirou activated the accompanying spell that wrapped around that body, stinging from the cursed star, a mark of obedience that tied this devil to him.

Another three or four blades wormed their way out, but following a jagged path that his subordinate screamed in wretched agony again, reaching his bound hands in supplication, but the watching god merely stepped on them and twisted a heel. More broken bones. How lovely.

"It eludes me how an experienced _seneschal_ such as yourself could lose _ those two_," said the Master, although he _ does _know the answer. He just refused to acknowledge it in light of his own displeasure. "Remind me again, my dearest, w h y I should be merciful of you?"

He did not really need the response to that as well. He was not interested in it all, more drawn perhaps to the way the other's blood oozed and slid upon that marred flesh.

He has a particular liking to the consequences of torture; the more mangled something is, the more beautiful it becomes to him. Reminiscent of the days when he held _ those two _ in a manner befitting the internal brute he is deep within, to teach them a higher form of _love_.

He was an elegant sadist, an inflictor of pain.

With his hands he created a masterpiece of his own fetish upon living flesh and breathing creatures. Something that he was rather particularly good at even before the godhood chose him...

“Did I _intrude_ upon you at an inopportune time?”

Ah, the contemplation ended there when that statement drifted to the strain of his hearing, stunning the god of this Fortress.

How could anyone have-? That was impossible- Unless of course...

Seishirou should have guessed.

In the Cosmos known only to a few blessed and holy beings as himself, there was a hierarchy that served as the Order of things. In his case, though already a creator of power himself, there was _O__ne_ far superior and above him in the chain of this said Order. The only One capable of the feat of sneaking up upon him while he was yet unaware.

“My Liege...I didn’t-” he would have fallen to a knee, except _he_ who had appeared before him dismissed the intended gesture with a wave of his hand. It wasn't necessary.

With a smile, his golden-eyed _Visitor_ simply said instead, “All is well, Seishirou. There is no need to dote over me…”

Yet the High God did take a glance over at the other’s General, the same now being battered to a pulp at the centre of this vastness. He surmised Sakurazuka would not be satisfied until he'd placed a scratch on every part of that pale body?

A _ man _after the High God's own _inclinations_.

“I would hate to impose upon you given that you seem to be...preoccupied?” he motioned, assuring the other however that he has no interest to meddle in the ways of this Realm.

It was given to the lesser god to do as he pleased here. That edict would not be contradicted even by the _Visitor_. If this punishment needed to carry on as it should, then it should.

"I will ask that you overlook my display of appetence," yet the sincerest apologies should be in order. Given _who_ it was that stood in their midst.

_Aizen-sama_ was no mere personality. He had the capability to destroy anything he willed, alter any that he wanted. Even for someone as bloody and cold-hearted as he who had been known as the Sakurazukamori, the Legendary Assassin, this was a shuddering aspect. Simply put, when the other says it was blue, it was _blue_ even if it was the darkest black.

Aizen Sousuke laughed at that. He understood this situation completely, voluntarily closing his probe into the mind of his lesser counterpart for the moment. “You need not explain yourself, please," indeed. A god was a god for a reason. "But come! I have matters that I will require you to _discuss_ with me.”

Seishirou obeyed without question, as another scream was ripped out of he who was being punished at the moment. He supposed it necessary to tone that down.

“Muffle him," he ordered of his Executors and a hand crushed brutally over the General's mouth immediately, stifling a cry.

Aizen Sousuke paused in his regal stride.

“No no, my dearest Seishirou," he cast an eye over his shoulder. "I insist you let his voice fill the room. We all want to hear our lovely generals bellow from time to time…”

A smooth lie. For he would never do such a thing to his own, treating him as a precious brother.

It did not mean he could not suggest it upon others. And he mentally tossed him an idea that he wanted; needless to say, the lesser deity's compliance was non-negotiable.

Seishirou watched the Lord walk off, the darkness of his furred long coat adrift behind him like the lightest silks. Traversing the Dimensions was cold even for them. This was a necessary drama...

Seishirou gestured for another _punishment_ then, befitting his own Master's orders, this time, leaving his subordinate there in the mercy of Dolls replacing the exiting Executors. He was to be _raped_ by the metal machines shaped in the image of Man, these _things_, tasked to ensure a different melody made to overlap the agony. Chains rattled more, straining, and it began.

As for them both, they walked towards the distance, leaving the broken General to half-consciously feel strong, cold hands spread his lower regions, before a large, equally arctic appendage penetrated him without preparation, the sudden stab of pain coursing his insides now, inevitably breaking him at the stake.

Meanwhile, Seishirou summoned a throne for him and his venerated _guest_, allowing it to rise from the floor, Aizen-sama's seat grander than his apparently, as befitting the status of course.

The Master waited for the High God to settle, only then seating himself, summoning the robed servants of his Fortress to cater to them with food and drink.

The retinue swept in, light on their feet, soundless, arranging an intimate yet elaborate table complete with a floral arrangement centerpiece. From which the two could take their fill, as they enjoyed the General's torment, two of the Dolls ganging up upon his battered form to skewer him alive now.

As the High God wanted, another cacophony of sound other than suffering suffused the ambiance of the area, a mingle of pain and pleasure which rose in the background.

“I am surprised that you are without your wed _consorts_ today, My Lord."

It has become notable by the moment that the very Royalty that held the Cosmos in his hand came to his meager Universe without his own Sentinels. But beyond the missing trail of soldiers, nary a trace of a single _Arcana_, he had arrived without his two _inamoratos_ as well.

The High God was known for his Trinity, composed of himself and two others: one, a strawberry who was known as the God of War, the Destroyer of Worlds, named Kurosaki Ichigo; the other, the God Spear, the Rectifier, the Originator of Destinies and Keeper of the Cosmos' Keys, the silver Ichimaru Gin.

Did they not usually travel together? They were never apart.

“You know of my Ichigo. He is traversing the dimensions stirring up chaos where he pleases," that explains it. As for the Silver? "And my Gin," Aizen-sama chuckled in fond recollection, always in adoration whenever finding his beloved in concentration similar to when he had left him at Citadelia. "He is wanting to create a new set of star systems once again. A very expansive web.

"Like the most refined of artistes, my lovelies…" both pride and amusement evident in that voice.

“You rather spoil them, but it is comprehensible. Such beauties need the utmost space to thrive," agreed the Sakurazukamori.

“Yes. And you know I will indulge them on any grounds to the best of my capacities. As you _would_ of _yours_ I’m certain?”

“Of course.”

As it was in the case of the High God, the same with them, the fifteen lesser deities of the Cosmos. Seishirou had his pick of the litter when he Ascended, and his choice were two _very special_ mortals found compatible to his soul, converted into the godhood after him once the selection was made.

Not a bad couple to share the power and spend eternity with. He had grown rather fond of them, and quite affectionate, as they had been deifying of him in return.

“I do not see your consorts as well, Seishirou?”

The Universe need not remind why the present status of things unnerved him. But yes, the High God can pry. Who was he to stop the other?

“That is actually part of why I am irked," the Master of this Universe admitted, vehement even as he briefly regarded his General, the two massive Dolls joined by a third in their abuse.

He had ordered them to plug all the available holes for _fucking_ and, true enough, the mindless machines had forced their rods two into his subordinate's anus and one down his throat, choking him.

This should be no doubt terrible for someone with that sort of pride. He was being made an example of what it means to _'moan like a whore'_.

“Oh my…had they vanished upon you?” the Lord had found a wine to his liking, being a connoisseur despite not really needing sustenance to exist, having a goblet poured.

The conversation has taken a turn of interest. His lesser counterpart would not have let them go under _any_ circumstance, considering how he had patiently seduced the two into becoming his.

Seishirou was irritated, though he had uttered calmly, likewise having the servants pour him a glass of the same vintage. “Rather it was an oversight on behalf of my own right hand. For shame…"

“No wonder you are vexed." As one being enamoured with his beloved to another, this was most unsettling indeed. But Aizen-sama will leave the matter for Sakurazuka to resolve. He had _other things_ he needed to accomplish here today.

He gestured for a servant. "Yet I trust that you will find them, unequivocally so…

"...hopefully in time for this?”

A golden scroll has fallen into a waiting tray, materializing from nothing. It seemed to float freely at first before the inevitable thud, the sound that meant it had been given to the pull of whatever gravity was allowed here.

Seishirou read through the contents immediately after it was unraveled.

“General Kaname is marrying?”

“And about time I should say. I have been encouraging my God Shield to take his bride in many a millennia!"

Tousen Kaname has existed since the High God has. He was tasked to be the Lord's Shield, a General in his battles whilst _perfecting_ the Cosmos and his own dominion over it.

Yet instead of becoming a direct member of the Trinity, he merely took a supporting role despite being qualified, directly in charge of High God's _Arcana_ and _Talum_, the entire army. A role that suited him well.

"He is to wed my other Zero; have you met him?"

The _Arcana_ with the blue fire in his hair, counterpart of Murciélago, the Dark One?

The two of them had gained some infamy throughout their eons of serving the High God, and, like any member of the Citadelian _Arcana_, has garnered a hefty number of followings. Even from among the lesser deities, a few on Seishirou Sakurazukamori's level, there had been plenty who tried to woo them.

The loyalties were strong however. Ulquiorra Cifer marrying one of their own instead of an outsider, and now, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez set to marry Aizen-sama's General Kaname as well.

"Who in the known Cosmos has not? You cannot disregard such a gem," the Master of the Fortress remarked, genuinely astonished that this was truly happening. The couple had been betrothed to each other for so long.

“Then you will grace us with your presence?”

At the other side of the room, Seishirou's subordinate had struggled less and less, his pliancy noticeable as he was passed among the machines taking turns owning him.

Alas, had he fainted? The Master cannot have that, and so ordered the Dolls to awaken him with multiple blows.

Soon enough, there were cries once again as they had moved to impale him relentlessly, treating the gods to a continuance of this bloody yet _stimulating_ show.

“Be there hail or high water, yes of course, Lord Aizen," said the lesser deity with a flourish. "But I am rather perplexed.

"Was this _all_ that you had come all the way here for?

"Not that it is a trivial matter, but you could have just sent a herald, My Liege.”

Was it that extraordinary? Aizen-sama looked down upon the vintage in his hand that he has not even sampled, swirling it in its goblet. It looked like blood. How rich and symbolic.

“Well, you are correct about that. Yet this is among the few things most germane to me -perhaps because my _old friend_ is unquestioningly devote since his beginnings," replied the High God, not at all being dishonest now. "It is my pleasure to see him obtain happiness at last.

“But yes, you are wise, Seishirou. I am likewise here in _scrutiny_ of my kingdom.”

And here it was, basically the _ only _ _thing_ that could draw the supreme god of the Cosmos to descend into their more unappealing layer of Universes. Seishirou suddenly drained his glass, not bothering to savour its contents.

He was nervous, a strange state to be in, or was it more towards excitement? He held Aizen-sama's golden gaze and could not help these strange _emotions_.

“Is there trouble among us lesser deities?”

Amusing that the lower god brought that into fore. So he seemed knowing, which was not uncommon. They all feared a traitor in the circle of immortals all their endless lives.

This made Aizen-sama smile, one very charming curve of his lips as he eyed him through the glass.

“Ah no. It is not the sort that you must bother with; I simply wanted to see for myself how you are shaping the Universes my Silver has left to your charges. I am rather intrigued likewise as to how the others are doing."

That appeared a great reason, yet from the many years that he has served under him, Seishirou knows. There was always _more_ to these mere words.

He watched Aizen-sama take the barest of sips from his cup, and regarded Sakurazuka over suggestively this time.

Oh yes, this was definitely a trace of excitement the latter was feeling. A certain thrill down to his bones.

Hitting home especially when Aizen-sama declared, “I always ascertained from the Citadel, but a _physical _affirmation is key in the same manner.

"Would you not agree?”

When he was a mortal veterinarian, he never knew these sensations. He was pure apathy to the core, a necessity as the Sakurazukamori- what did he say once- a glass cup and a human being were the same to him? No longer.

“Of course, my Liege, I understand," he let out a long-held breath, returning the smile in kind with a devious and quite seductive version of his own.

Alas, it boils down to _this_ finally. Seishirou chuckled. There was but _one being_ capable of enslaving him, and he would be a slave, if that was what the almighty demanded. He rather _enjoyed_ their small sexual escapes.

It was doable enough of a further _request_. For in as easily as he was a sadist here in his own domain, there was _One_ even greater than he. The normal Order of pecking. He was required to oblige, to become Aizen-sama's plaything if necessary, a pawn to his avarice if may.

Such was the power _he_ held that even the mighty shuddered...and did this _kind_ of bidding to their eternal pleasure or their eternal shame.

He was _ordered_.

Regardless, he took his own fun from it all. The Master does not mind at all. 

“Then?”

Seishirou put his goblet down and stood, dismissing his servants immediately. He likewise waved a hand so a length of ruby velvet fell and unfurled to cover the gruesome consummation happening between his General and the Dolls.

He was about to undergo something akin on his own end, and what was to take place was not for anyone's eyes; as gently he parted his own robes to reveal his toned body to the higher lord.

"If this pleases you..."

He stood before Aizen-sama then, and, to the latter's amusement, was already hard, that hand reaching out confirming the state as it cupped his balls, massaging them.

“Shall we move to my quarters? That way I may make a _proper_ worship?” suggested Sakurazuka.

But Aizen-sama had other plans.

"It is not necessary, my dearest Seishirou," he drawled, smoothly gliding that palm upwards to tug at the flesh, pinching the tip of that cock, making his loyal subject buckle into his grip and bite a lip, a bare sigh escaping. "You can do your worship _right here_."

* * *

Every sentient being possessed something called a Soul Line, a free-floating gossamer string rooted to the ground from the person, an indication that they were linked to the very fabric of the world, the very universe. The same that, in turn, linked to others, becoming the Red Lines of Fate, threads that, from one 's pinky finger, joined another individual's or more, to twine their destinies together -every aspect of their lives: family, love, fortune- creating a massive and oftentimes intricate web of interconnection, responsible of pointing you to where you should be, to who you should be with, among others.

An overwhelming thing. A marvel and wonder in itself. But not everyone can see this.

It was a feature of the Cosmos that only few was knowledgeable about; most of which unable to see the very brilliance of their shared fortunes even if they were gifted, the massive web said to appear very pale.

Not to them both.

As the hallowed consorts of the god of this Universe, they see it in its most _special_ light, admiring and respecting it for what it _truly_ is.

"No good. This isn't going to get us anywhere," Vaughn spoke, inspecting a seeming clump of threads that was floating about before him, pressing strands of it lightly between fingertips.

They were walking the vast expanse called the outskirts of this city, just now crossing a bridge from the park where they ended waking up but a few short moments ago. They knew they had to somewhat try and make their way home, so following the Soul Lines was a safe bet.

There was one on anyone here, and such as this, they can cluster, but as they progressed slowly, it was becoming rather obvious that this alone bears its own limits of usefulness.

"We can't pluck it right? The owner might lose their soul," Giran peeked over that shoulder, looking down at what his Vaugh-chan was likewise looking at. "We mustn't."

It was a known fact that a Soul Line can lead them upwards to Runia Babylonia, as each must rise to and traverse in a stairway to join the web in other places, even the worlds if that was what's fated.

The same stairway could be used to get back _ up there_, if only they can find the end, or were willing to disconnect one of these Lines at least.

They were not.

The beings these belonged to are in their care. If a Line was severed in any way, then that spelled death for whomever was on the other end.

The only time it disconnects voluntarily was in death. But you can't follow those Soul Lines. Once beings gave up the ghost, they find their way back to the Pure and Dark Seas where souls are actually cycled back into the many universes of the Cosmos, given new destinies to fulfill, attached with new Soul Lines to again fix with others in that endless web.

Vaughn knew well enough and, admittedly, was already feeling irritated.

"Yeah. We're not that cruel," he said, pushing himself up to his feet once more, stretching, reaching to tousle Giran's hair and the diamonds that so stubbornly clung to it. "Guess we just have to look for a _Column_, you think?"

Columns happened when there was an immense number of Soul Lines in one area. When they eventually clump even larger together, this web of intersected destinies, they become this large, rising tower, more like a stump since its higher parts vanish into the stairway, invisible even for them as it stretches upwards indefinitely.

"Is there even one nearby?"

"Of course. Maybe more -just got to go to a place with a concentration of sentience.

"Where there's a population, there should be one hiding in plain sight."

As usual, he was right, except, he didn't have the slightest clue where to look exactly.

"Hey! You shits lost from the Cosplay Con or something!"

Boisterous laughter. The usual bullying remarks. Some jerks in their fast cars just whizzed by and shouted, prompting them both to raise a brow.

"A what now?" Giran didn't quite get that.

Vaughn shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't know.

"But this only goes to show civilized doesn't mean civilized in some cases?" He smiled, although his companion already chuckled.

It was like looking at a reel that was playing a scene backwards. What their Mentors called it was the progress of society -advancements, modernization, similar constructs and concepts.

Yet as it carried the reality onward, morals have degraded and failed. People wanted to seize power for themselves and play God on their own in any way. Some begin as bullies, only to end as dictators.

That's utter rubbish-

They'll all still die one way or another.

"What is with this world's vehicles? They're too noisy," Giran, balancing his hands on his hips, saying this rather indignantly.

Vaughn thought about it briefly, how perhaps there was some grain of truth in those words?

"Well, they might be right…" as he stared his counterpart over, the sexy robes of their Palatial Fortress that he -that both of them- had on a bit too out-of-place in this reality, perhaps even scandalous by the standards down here? They were drawing unnecessary attention.

"Wait what?"

"Nevermind Gir-chan. Come on!"

Thankfully, their god privileges were not affected. As Vaughn ripped a rift through time and space to bridge where they are now and somewhere in the blink of an eye. He beckoned Giran to pass through it with him.

"Where are we going?"

"To disappear…"

* * *

Seishirou laid in bed, still dreaming though pretty much awake, drifting right after repeating bouts of the sex he'd indulged, the High God responsible for it now dressed and leaving to certainly visit the other lesser gods in their Realms for not only his personal errand, but _ this _similar tryst too.

A way of control. His lower subordinates were shown their place -best while moaning in heat literally _under_ him. Just as Sei had been doing moments earlier. The only time he'd spread his legs and be the recipient of penetration. His Master would always be Aizen Sousuke-sama.

“I need not remind you how vital the role of _your two_ are; you need retrieve them the soonest possible,” spoke the Lord, not even turning to regard the lesser deity he’d shared the bed with but a while ago.

There was no attachment to this setup, and neither parties had issues with it. You’d get bored of eternity without vices. Bodily recreations were among the choice of pasttimes and indulged plenty in all the Realms of the Cosmos.

“I shall see to that matter _personally_, My Liege. Please ease your worries.”

Did it look like he was worried? Aizen-sama could scoff at that satement, but then again, he was too refreshed and elated to bother. Making love with Seishirou has always been beyond satisfying.

“I have full confidence in you,” he said instead, his lips not even moving as if the words were never formed but they obviously had. Seishirou heard them just fine.

That said, in the blink of an eye, the Lord was gone, the dying breeze that ruffled the curtains indicating his departure through the Infinite Gates, the only evidence that he’d been there. Well, _almost_ the only evidence, leaving the Master of the Realm to ponder certain matters they’d talked with in between the sheets earlier, while they smoldered in unbridled lust, the High God filling him to overflowing.

He’d have to act fast, and soon. Already, he can feel a deluvium form. He could sense it in the horizon, drawing ever closer to his territories the farther his two got from him.

* * *

Teleportation and dimensional travel. It was a nifty trick a god of their tier could do, arriving at what appeared to be the shopping areas of this city, as they searched for any Column of Soul Lines that certainly was here, and also a change of clothes.

It was necessary.

Until they figure out their way back home to Ruria Babylonia, they were to keep a low profile, Vaughn once again casting his glance over Giran, only to frown. Yeah, the robes needed to go.

It covered the necessities barely, draping about their waists, flowing like a dream that would make the pervasive imagination scatter. Admittedly, although artful in the sense that it revealed their sculpt of muscles perfectly, framed by gems and precious stones like a treasure itself, it was an airy getup best for just lounging about lazily in their cushioned throne hall. Or in the ornate bed of their Master. A bed he wanted to return to as soon as he could, thanks.

“Do we have to?” of course Giran whined. He rather liked the freedom their Fortress garb afforded. “I like my robes…”

“So do I,” argued Vaughn, concurring on the comfort part of it all, but pointing that it served them better to arouse less suspicion at this point. “Just this once okay?” still needing to convince the other.

They’ve now stood at the front of the glass display of some signature brand shop, though they did not care or understood that it was, looking up at a couple of male mannequins from the looks of it that sported the latest in fashion befitting this..._place_.

Vaughn showed it to his companion, even as strangers paused and were staring at them.

“This should suit you,” he was referring to an ensemble of tattered skinny jeans, black sneaks, a hoodie and a long sleeved shirt rolled with the outer to the elbows. He fancied it matched Giran’s colour.

His choice was the darker denim with white shoes, paired with a grey three-fourth sleeve shirt. The light coat was good too. The shade was what he liked. “I’ll take this one.”

Vaughn pressed his hand on the glass over his choice. Giran hesitated for a moment before he did the same. Well, guess it's acceptable if it's only temporary...

“Okay, if Vaughn-chan says so!” he grinned.

Within a few seconds, a curious thing occurred.

As both Consorts’ robes and jewels faded, the clothes they’d picked wrapped over their bodies. Material transference. Another nifty trick.

“Looking good!” Vaughn remarked, giving it a thumb’s up.

The change was an instant hit, Giran clothed but liking the feel of it, hugging himself then making a spin.

“You look good too!” he laughed, making his companion reach again to ruffle that blond head, in some manner solvating the gemstones there and giving his companion a change of style.

“Don’t be too excited now. 

“Let’s go?”

Vaughn had already walked ahead, combing his fingers through his own tresses to dissolve the bijou there too, redoing his own haircut into something more current. How he knew it looked good on him, was unknown, but his gut feeling sure told him so.

“Where to now?” Giran ran up to his side.

Surely, they can look for that Column in peace now can't they?

* * *

It’s been a year already since the GetBackers Recovery Service...disappeared.

And not just any ordinary disappearance, it was as if they'd just dissolved into thin air. No trace of them was ever left, no clues as to where they might have gone off to, no body, no car, no witnesses. Not the evidence of altercations with anyone past or presently connected to their lives.

Even Dr. Jackal who was the most likely culprit if there ever was, had raised his hands. He had not done anything. He was as confounded of the disappearance as the rest of the gang was.

There was just...nothing. Well, nothing except memories that they'd left behind. Memories that, to some, remained clearer than others...

Natsumi Mizuki watched them leave that day, in good spirits actually, after all that’s happened at the Infinity Fortress the second time, after things had settled down to as normal as normal can be, after Hevn waltzed through the doors of the Honky Tonk and gave the two another _ easy _ yet purportedly profitable assignment.

They were all certain they’d be done with it by the end of that very day, or the next, or two, expecting to actually see them bursting past those same doors they'd left through, successful in their venture, or as successful as they have the definition of it.

They’re a blundering duo sometimes, always caught up in something, always doing some errand of significance.

Not to mention they were always hungry.

Paul Wan did say that they'd already sent a text stating that they've completed the job. So Natsumi came to the shop early, expecting.

She imagined fixing them a hearty meal, brewing them a really good cup of Joe, anticipating to add another item to the tall order of a tab that they never could quite pay up.

A mountain of debt and a list that runs bottomless according to the Chief, but honestly, even if the Honky Tonk’s owner got frustrated and reminded them often about the matter, he doesn’t really mind.

They don’t mind, all of them.

Because those two were dear friends. They’d be welcomed no matter how troublesome they got, their little arguments a part of the day-to-day scenery.

But no one came.

No Ban. No Ginji.

Not in days, or the three weeks following...

Hevn was the one to break the news that the two had taken on another recovery task, actually it was right when the last assignment she handed them has finished, but, after that, it was as if the earth just swallowed them up. Not even MakubeX could find a lead.

A month dragged on this way, two, six, a year now. They had searched everywhere.

No Ban. No Ginji.

No GetBackers.

"Where did you both go?"

The question on everyone's mind, particularly and especially in Natsumi's. She, more than anyone, missed them terribly, and, without further information, a note, even an inkling, she doubts there'd ever be closure or moving on on their behalf. It's as if a giant piece had been yanked out of the equation, leaving a void in their world.

As if the colour was partly drained, faded.

The life was still there, each to their own business as usual, just...not the same anymore.

_'So maybe we can do that?'_

Wait.

_'Are you insane? No- that's brutal…'_

Wait…

_'But it is what it is. Don't you like it?'_

WAIT!

Natsumi suddenly lifted her head at the sound of those voices breaking her reverie, from a pale stupor waking as if she started with what she'd heard.

Her heart skipped a beat, looking around in search suddenly.

It was familiar. Very _ very _ familiar.

_'Would he like that?'_

_'Why are we even talking about this?'_

It was as if the world stopped. Then revolved slowly, the girl's longing and sadness when they vanished making her all emotional. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Or was it…real?

_'We should ask him once we get back-'_

The blur of the people walking before her eased aside like a stage curtain, and this time, she did see a face that was dear to her.

Ban? That was Ban Midou right? His face was unmistakable, even without the covering shades!

_'Can we even make it a surprise? I think he'd know even before we ever plan it.'_

Ginji! Ginji Amano was here too! Just a short distance away from her.

"They're...they're alive-"

Natsumi felt her cheeks heat as her eyes misted over. She could not stop herself from crying then and there. After so long, she'd seen them yet again, the tears making it hard that she had to rub them off on her sleeve.

"Ban! Ginji!" She held back her sob, trying to call out. As she did this however, she paused.

They were gone!

"No- but they- they were-"

She turned around. They had vanished on her again, like they did a year back.

"Ban! Ginji!" She called out. Where could they have gone? "Where are you guys?!"

Not again. She'd already cried about this many times. They don't know how worried she's been! How everyone's been doing when they went missing!

Or, was it just all her own delusions finally? Was she seeing things? Is she going insane!?

_'There?'_

_'Straight ahead, sure.'_

Natsumi paused. There it was again, those voices rising, but this time, this time she held on tight and prayed it was not her sickly imaginings.

But as she turned towards that place, following what to her was unmistakable, as she looked over to where the two are, she felt all her doubts wash away.

It was indeed _them_, Ban and Ginji. They were well and here at last. They'd made their way back to Shinjuku.

_'You're being silly,'_ she watched Ban give Ginji a shove, laughing. _'Let's go-'_

No. They hadn't seen her. Belatedly had she realized they were already across the street from where she had first seen them as well.

How did they-? No. That doesn't even matter anymore. The only thing she wanted to do now was to meet them again, talk to them again, ask them the questions that had plagued their thoughts this entire year!

She wanted to be where they are…

"Ban! Ginji!"

She ran, her legs breaking into a sprint before she realized it. Her goal, them, so close at hand-

"A TRUCK!"

"OH MY GOODNESS! WATCH OUT!"

But she didn't see it. The light was green, her demise come rolling at a sudden fifty kilometres an hour down the street. The classic deer in the headlights as she paused there, overcome, mind gone blank as she froze on the spot.

Was she...going to die? Just like how it was when she first hired them for a retrieval, when she first met them.

"Ban...Ginji…!" her last conscious words were _their names_.

Did she even scream?

She does not know.

All she managed was to actually cower in mortal terror, her body shaking, bracing for the inevitable impact as she heard the deafening horn of warning, the screech of tires as brakes were stepped upon too late.

A CRASH!

Yet…

...she was not hurt.

Natsumi Mizuki opened her eyes. She slowly turned her gaze upwards. Was she dead?

"You really should watch where you're walking young lady. You could have died…"

_B-Ban?!_

There he was indeed, the Recovery Expert with the Snake Bite and the Jagan also known as the Evil Eye. He had a palm thrust straight into the underside of the truck, crushing a spot there instead, avoiding from killing the driver as well.

He pushed the vehicle upwards, off its front wheels, almost standing it at a vertical angle, letting the back tires finish spinning a distance off the street.

Such strength. He held his ground.

"You okay miss?" Ginji had come to her aid as well, helping her onto her feet. "You're okay now."

She felt so happy that she wanted to cry again. But her knees buckled as she tried to steady herself, her body giving finally. The ordeal has triggered an exhaustion in her suddenly that her vision spun.

_'No- please not now-'_ she thought deperately.

"Miss!"

However, try as she may, she still blacked out completely, falling unconscious in the arms of whom she thought to be _Ginji Amano_.

"_Giran_, what happened?"

"I don't know, _Vaughn-chan_…what do we do?"

But not before catching _that_ conversation. What was that? The girl argued with her own hearing for a minute before this too faded into sweet oblivion.

Those...were _ not _ their names she heard...


End file.
